Prescription
by soupeatereavans
Summary: Neil never wanted her to realize how corrupt he was... (Rosawatts)


**I made a fanfiction again...**

**...**

**...read it.**

It started out as prescription medication. Honest to god, it started as a tranquil need for pain medication to help a broken wrist when he was around twenty two. He never expected to have to constantly make up excuses to always have the bottle in his pocket. He just…needed it. It was sick and disgusting, and he hated himself for his twisted addiction. And Eva…she'd surely avoid him like the plague. He wasn't too sure she'd condone what he was doing, and even less sure if he wanted her to. He had recently grown a fear that Eva suspected what's up, and the more he worked with more, the more his fear confirmed itself.

Heck, she hated him anyways. He'd never been necessarily too well financed; (have you ever met a licensed doctor living in a one bedroom apartment, living off of ramen noodles?) or dedicated, or all that handsome. He'd always made sure to break every rule she made, slug her in the shoulder (sometimes leaving bruises), and insult her cooking whenever the opportunity made itself present.

The torrid sun was gone, swept away in mist of the 'biggest storm in six years'. Sure it was. All it did was flood the streets from 34th to Main, his exact route to the pharmacy to get more of his addiction. Now he was craving, tired, grumpy, and staring into an empty bottle.

Oh, and pissed.

His phone, a few feet away, started buzzing loudly. It played the very annoying, loud, obnoxious ringtone. Perfect for Eva Rosaline, naturally. One ring. Two. Three. It would end on six.

"…What do you want, Eva?"  
"Chill out, grumpy pants. I wanted to let you know I'm on my way. Bringing food."  
"Please don't bring any 'home-cooked' chicken again, I might just puke."  
"No dummy, I stopped at KFC. I'll be there soon, okay?"  
"Okay…bye." He hung up, feeling terribly unsure if he could stomach anything at the moment. He _already _felt like throwing up, eating wasn't a realistic option.

Eva showed up in ten minutes on the dot. Neil had used that time to make himself look halfway decent, no more than brushing his hair and shaving at a dangerously speedy pace. Eva looked beautiful as always, only, this time, adorned in a rain jacket and clean clothes (more than he could say). He'd never understood why her lab coat was trimmed with gold; making her look more angelic than usual. She held up the brown paper bag of chicken and coleslaw, setting it down on the table.

"…you're a mess." She stated, plain and clear.  
"A hot mess?"  
"I wouldn't stretch it that far." Neil choked out a laugh, sounding more like a croak. He hated it. He hated how he couldn't laugh properly, talk without having to try to sound normal, had to squirm in discomfort whenever Eva set her judgmental, disappointed gaze on him. Hated how he was uncontrollably addicted, hated how he couldn't feel comfortable without the weight of the pills in his pocket and in his veins, he hated everything about himself.

"Hello? Earth to Neil? I wanted to know if you want me to get plates or if you'd rather eat out of the box." Eva said, snapping Neil back into reality, where he realized he hadn't done dishes in weeks. Dishes weren't really an option either.  
"The box is fine." Neil took the bag and set it on the couch, curling up.  
"Neil, what's this?" Eva questioned, grabbing the bottle and watching him. As she suspected, he stomped over in an obviously pissy attitude and took it.  
"That's nothing Eva, I hurt my…shoulder. It's real bad." Time hadn't made him any better of a liar, just a more desperate one.  
"BS Neil, you and I both know you didn't hurt your shoulder. Or your leg. Or your knee. Or your wrist. Or your arm. The only place something's wrong with you is your head, Neil. You thought I'd just let this go on for goodness knows how long?"

Time had seemed to freeze for Neil Watts. He spent many nights on his knees, praying to every deity he knew of that Eva would never find just how corrupted he really was. The ultimate horror had come to life. And now, the question.

_Does she hate me?_

As the question echoed around in his mind, the words rearranged themselves to become less of a question and more of a statement.

_She does hate me._

He'd been too distracted in his nightmares to notice she'd pulled out her phone and started dialing.  
"Eva, _who're you calling?_"  
"I'm calling the boss, Neil. You need help." He almost had a heart attack before yanking her phone out of her hand and throwing it to the ground, kicking it away.  
"Eva, you don't understand! My _job_ is at risk here, Eva! I can_not _afford to have this revealed! Literally! Eva, look around you, do you really think I could afford to lose my job right now, not mentioning therapy costs…you can't do this! I forbid you!"

Eva understood his concern, but he didn't understand hers. Throwing him aside, she walked across the bare room and picked up the phone, thankful it still had the number put in.  
"Eva, I swear, if you hit call, I will not forgive you…"

"I know you think you'll be fired Neil. But think logically. The boss' always liked you, and he knows I work best with you. He's not firing you, you're a valuable worker and coming across people with our training isn't easy at all. I'm going to try to convince him to give you unpaid leave. Plus Neil, did you even _read_ the medical benefits? I'm pretty sure you're covered, and if yours was different than mine, you know your parents will gladly help out. You've been completely illogical about this whole thing."

All Neil could do was curl up and listen quietly as Eva made the call and saved him, processing his options and coming up with reasons why he wasn't serious about not forgiving her.


End file.
